


Sofia Volta – Q+A

by kittensmctavish



Series: Buzzfeed Soulmates AU [8]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Broken Bones, Buzzfeed Unsolved Postmortem, Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime, Classical Music, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Piano, Questions, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 09:19:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15771204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittensmctavish/pseuds/kittensmctavish
Summary: Shane’s out of town for the filming of the next Postmortem. He asks someone to take his place…...(it’s Reader. Oops.)(Or: look who made up a case for the boys.)





	Sofia Volta – Q+A

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, I am so fucking tired of staring at this one. I almost gave up on it completely. But goddamn it, I loved the case I made up (despite leaving some details vague as fuck because I don’t have all of it worked out) so…here’s this part, in all its shitty glory.
> 
> (I don’t think there’s anyone in the world named Sofia Volta, but if there is...I’m so sorry.)
> 
> (Should I give Reader’s sister a name? I sort of want to give Reader’s sister a name.)

“So what do we got comin’ this week, Ryan?” Shane asks, per usual at near the end of the Q&A part of the Postmortem.

“This week’s episode is, uh…” Ryan folds his hands as he starts his sentence before it peters off. “It’s…um…” He seems like he’s trying to find the right words.

“It’s gonna ‘Rach’,” you say, quietly enough that Ryan has to ask you to repeat it. Which you do. Which, in turn, makes him laugh.

“Yes. Perfect. Thank you,” Ryan says. “The episode is, indeed, gonna ‘Rach’.”

“THAT’S what you’re going with?” Shane asks.

“What, you got anything better?”

“I…no…”

“Didn’t think so.”

And then Ryan finishes the last of his schpiel, Shane begins the Hotdaga, and you beg for the sweet release of death.

***

You’re taking down the last of the lighting when Ryan stops at your side.

“Hey, thanks for the pun,” he says, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t have thought of it myself.”

“Yeah, well…heard it from my sister enough,” you say, rolling your eyes. Ryan squeezes your shoulder ever so slightly before his hand slips away. “Think it’s obtuse enough to keep people guessing about what the episode actually is?”

“…actually, yeah. Some’ll probably guess it’s Alcatraz.” You nod; it’s a valid point. “You need any help?”

“Nah, I got the last of it.”

“You sure?”

“Don’t you have a fitting with Kristin?”

“Yes?”

“Are you avoiding it?”

“Maybe?”

You grab Ryan’s shoulder and gently turn him in the direction of the door.

“Go. Be good. Nice clothes are not scary.”

“Hey, I’ve only seen you wear a dress once, you are in NO position to talk,” Ryan argues, moving away as you reach out to push him again. “Okay, I’m going! Don’t come to me for sympathy when they style YOU next!”

“GOD, don’t give them ideas!” you call as Ryan leaves the set.

***

A few days later, you’re opening your editing software when you hear Shane call your name.

“Light of my fridge, salt in my wound, rock in my shoe,” Shane says as he approaches you, draping an arm over your shoulder.

“What do you want?” you ask, shrugging out of the “affection”.

“Lover of weird musicals that are weird—”

“Never use the word ‘lover’ to describe me ever again,” you warn, rolling away from him and pointing a warning finger at him. “Now what do you want?”

“So, I’m gonna be out of town later this week,” Shane begins, “and I’ll be missing some things here…things that include filming this week’s Postmortem.”

“…okay?” You’re not entirely sure where he’s going with this.

“I was wondering if you could take my place for the Postmortem.”

Whatever your resulting facial expression is, it amuses Shane. But he gives a shrug before presenting his reasoning.

“I mean, the episode wouldn’t have been half of what it was without the help of you and your sister,” he explains. “And I figure if there are any more music-related questions from the audience, you’d be able to field those better than Ryan or I could.”

“…you make a good point. That works better on me than flattery.”

“It’s NOT flattery. It’s truth.”

“Semantics.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“…is Ryan on board with this? Because if y’all would rather he do the Postmortem with a recognizable face—”

“No, he’s on board,” Shane says. “Honestly, he’s the one who brought your name up when we were thinking of who to get for the episode. And…yeah, it makes the most sense for you to fill in.”

You feel a tinge of…something…when Shane says that RYAN was the one to suggest you. Whatever it is, it’s jumping up and down and shrieking giddily.

“Let me make sure TJ’ll be okay with me in front of the camera and not behind it…” you say. Shane lights up at your sort-of reluctant agreement.

“You’re an angel. A biblically accurate, terrifying angel. One of the cherubim or seraphim or ophanim or something.”

“And you call ME weird.”

“I call the weird musicals you like weird. There’s a distinct difference.”

“Whatever.”

“Oh, and…no pressure, but…I may email you some Hotdaga-related stuff that you can choose to share at the end of the Postmortem or not.”

“I’ll be sure to ignore that email completely.”

“You’re a treasure.”

Shane walks the few feet over to his desk and settles in for his own workday.

***

It’s almost like you blink and suddenly it’s time to film the Postmortem.

You and Ryan are sitting at the table, waiting as TJ and Mark (who has graciously stepped in for you today) finishing checking all the equipment. As you wait, you bounce your leg nervously (and hope Ryan doesn’t notice) as you check your phone for the umpteenth time, making sure you have the questions that Ryan sent you pulled up…that you hadn’t accidentally deleted them or anything (yes, it’s highly unlikely that you would, but it can never hurt to make sure).

“You’re gonna be fine.” Ryan’s voice makes you look up. “You know a lot about the case already, probably more than I do, in some ways.”

“Thanks,” you say, feeling your face heat up. “I know it’ll probably be fine, that I’m freaking out over nothing, I just…don’t want to say the wrong thing or…like…make this a disappointing episode because I’m not Shane or…you know, anyone the viewers actually recognize.”

“People recognize you,” Ryan says. “Maybe not a lot, but they do. And if you say anything you’re not okay with, we can always edit it out.”

“Right…yeah, of course, duh.”

You laugh more at yourself and your moment of stupidity than anything before pausing.

“It’s my sister,” you say. “I just mostly don’t want to embarrass my sister. Like, I know I’m probably gonna talk about her at some point, and I just…don’t know what all she’ll be okay with me saying.”

“We can always arrange for her to watch the footage and if there’s anything that was said that she’s not okay with, that can be edited out.”

“…really?”

“Yeah.

“…thank you.” You look down, opening your phone again to display the questions, and decide to stop fidgeting with it and set it facedown on the table. Then you pick it up again because you can’t remember if you have your NOTES readily available, to quickly switch to if needed, depending on the question. Then you put your phone down again and fold your hands.

You JUST catch a barely perceptible snort coming from next to you.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“Sorry, it’s just…you’re kind of adorable when you’re like this,” Ryan says, words tinged with a kind laughter.

“Like what? Nervous?” you ask, trying to play it casual and NOT like you’re freaking out internally over the “adorable” word (context be damned, your soulmate thinks you’re adorable). “Oh, then I’m gonna be the cutest thing EVER on location shoots.”

If Ryan is going to say anything in response to that, he’s interrupted by TJ saying he and Mark have everything ready to go. And instead, he folds his hands on top of the table, shifting into the pose he usually assumes at the beginning of an episode.

Then he looks at you one more time to give you a quick smile and whisper “ready?” You nod, offering your own weaker smile…though his smile brightening helps strengthen yours. And then he turns back towards the camera. You poise yourself, hoping you look casual and…not nervous as fuck…and “Action” is called.

“Hello, and welcome to another edition of ‘Buzzfeed Unsolved Postmortem’,” Ryan begins the opening schpiel, “a show where we answer your most pressing questions about the most recent episode of ‘Buzzfeed Unsolved, which was the Sofia Volta case. All the questions we’re answering today came from you guys, via our Buzzfeed Unsolved Facebook page, our Buzzfeed Unsolved Instagram page, as well as the comments section of the video on the Buzzfeed Unsolved Network.” Ryan then turns and gestures towards you. “As you can probably tell, this is not Shane.”

“No, I’m not,” you agree, laughing a little at TJ gives you a big thumbs-up from behind the camera and Mark waves excitedly from his position as Ryan introduces you by name.

“She’s our…not really NEW cameraperson anymore, you’ve been with us for a while now,” Ryan says, looking over at you.

“I mean, yeah, but I’m still one of the newest on the crew, so…” you say. “But yeah, usually, I’m hiding behind the camera.”

“Anyway, she’s here in Shane’s place this week, and may actually be a little better at answering some of your questions than me, so…” His sentence gives way to a laugh at the exasperation apparently evident on your face.

“Don’t put the pressure on me like this,” you sigh. “I got enough of that from Shane this morning.”

“Really, what did Shane say?” Ryan asks.

“He said…” Your sentence peters off as you pick up your phone to open your messages and Ryan helpfully informs the camera that Shane’s text will be the “first question.” “Okay, Shane texted me this morning with, ‘Hey!’ exclamation point. ‘Don’t fuck it up!’ Exclamation point. Winking emoji, hot dog emoji, french fries emoji, ear of corn emoji…” You pause momentarily as Ryan mutters a “Jesus Christ…” under his breath. “Right? Can of soup emoji, peach emoji, parentheses ‘Pretend it’s blue and sexy’ end parentheses.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Ryan sighs, exasperated. “What’d you have to say to all of that?”

“‘I absolutely will fucking not’,” you quote from your texts. Ryan’s resulting burst of enthusiastic laughter is infectious.

“Okay, we should probably stop roasting Shane and answer the fans’ questions,” Ryan says when his laughter has calmed.

“Fine,” you sigh, picking up your phone before looking over at Ryan. “You should start with the actual questions since I did the first ‘question’.” Ryan nods and looks down at his phone.

“Okay, our first question comes from Laura Karnstein on Facebook. ‘Just wanna give all my love to whoever you got to play Sofia and, by extension, play the piano in those reenactments. It sorta looked like that one girl who does sound and camera stuff for you guys, but I wasn’t quite sure. If it was, tell her she was awesome. Great episode!’” Ryan looks up at the camera, smiling a little as you snort with laughter at the misaimed compliment. “Um, Laura, you’re close, uh…” He looks over at you. “Wanna take the reins on this one?”

“That was not me playing piano,” you say. “That was actually my older sister. She’s been playing piano, like, the entire time I’ve known her.” That makes Ryan snort.” “She always like playing piano, but hearing Sofia play was actually what convinced my sister to pursue a degree in music. Like, holy shit, this young woman playing piano better than a lot of the most well-known pianists at the time and just able to put SO MUCH emotion into a piece. Sofia was a huge inspiration to her.”

“So…Sofia’s death was…?”

“A huge blow. Especially when all the speculation around it started.” You pause, shifting in your chair, glancing down at your phone as you remember your sister’s state at the time. “It happened her last year in college and…she actually made her senior recital a tribute to Sofia, so…a lot of Rachmaninoff and Schumann, like Sofia’s last concert.”

Better to mention that part of it. Not the part where your sister didn’t play for a solid month and a half after it happened. And when she DID start playing again, refused to pay anything Sofia had played. You blink at a memory of walking in on your sister sitting at her piano, just staring at the keys, fingers poised to play but just hovering in midair, tears falling and hitting the ivory…

“So is that a part of why she offered to play for the episode?” Ryan can tell you’re in a reverie of sorts, and you’re hit with a pang of guilt for already throwing the rhythm of the episode off. “I reviewed a lot of the footage from the day you guys filmed her, and…okay, I know NOTHING about playing piano, but I could tell those pieces meant a lot to her.”

“Yeah, it’s probably why there were so many takes,” you say, laughing and trying to bring the mood of the episode back up. “Not because my sister’s a mega-diva or anything, she’s not, I think she just…wanted to do right by Sofia.”

You could also say that you were pretty sure your sister was also tapping into some emotions she hadn’t felt (hadn’t allowed herself to feel?) for a long time. But that would be…a bit much.

“She was phenomenal to watch.”

“…thank you?...seems wrong thanking you on behalf of my sister but…it still feels wrong not to say thank you? I don’t know.” You laugh at your own awkwardness.

“Actually, a good number of the comments were something along the lines of ‘holy shit, that piano player’, so…”

“I already know her reaction to hearing that is gonna be ‘not as good as Sofia was and could have been’.”

“So THAT’S where get it from.” You look over at Ryan. “Deflecting any semblance of a compliment that is given to you.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, looking down at your phone. “Let’s move on to another question, give my sister a break.”

“Cool.”

“So, Instagram…” You click over to the questions Ryan sent you earlier and scroll up to the first one. “dooblesmcdooblestein asks ‘can someone explain the pun from the last postmortem about how this episode was gonna rock? not that the episode wasn’t good, but i figured from that hint, it’s have something to do with actual rocks, or alcatraz, or dwayne johnson. #boogara #shaniac #dontmakemechoose’.” You laugh at the last hashtag. “Cute.”

“So – first of all, did I not fucking call that someone would think it was Alcatraz?” Ryan says, fist-pumping the air.

“So proud of yourself…” You roll your eyes…but you’re smiling. He’s such a dork.

“But, anyway, the pun…” Ryan pauses for dramatic effect. “Rachmaninoff.” He lifts a hand for emphasis. “Rach…” He punctuates the “Rach” with a lift of his hand before waving it off to the side with the “…maninoff. Sofia was known for playing Rachmaninoff, hence the pun.” You nod in agreement.

“Music puns are fun,” you opine.

“Yeah. Not a lot of people can ‘Handel’ them, though.” You raise your hands for a slow clap as Ryan musters his best shit-eating grin.

“At least it wasn’t a ‘pianist’ joke,” you sigh, “…though I’m sure there are plenty of those in the comments.”

“…OH, because it sounds like—”

“Yes, Ryan, because it sounds like.”

“Yeah, I think I did see a comment or two like that.”

You roll your eyes again, a small sound of disgust escaping your throat.

“Well, outside of those dazzling displays of wit, were there any comments on the video with a good question?” you ask, folding your hands.

“Outstanding segue,” Ryan says as he scrolls through his phone. “So this one comes to us from Octopus Top Hat.”

“NOICE.”

“Right? Octopus Top Hat, that’s a great username. Anyway, their question is, ‘Regarding the broken fingers…what are the chances Sofia broke them accidentally when closing up the piano the night she died? Just a thought. Love you guys!’” Ryan puts the phone down. “Yeah, so…I, admittedly, know very little about pianos. But from what I do know, I can see the reasoning behind this argument, to a degree.” You nod. “Like, if only ONE hand had been found broken, I think this would hold more weight…like, closing the lid of the baby grand, fingers get caught when the lid drops, yeah. But BOTH hands were found broken, so…”

“Yeah, I’m with you. Like…” You rest your fingers on the table, as though they’re poised to play a piano. “It seemed pretty clear that the lid to the keys was slammed on top of her fingers.” You bring one of your hands up and make a motion with it, as though slamming something hard, your palm hitting the table as you talk. “And unless the piano she was playing was old or busted in some way, which I highly doubt, I’m fairly certain it was done by someone else, taking her by surprise.”

“Yeah….you, you don’t look happy talking about this.”

“I’m not. This is actually one of my least favorite parts of the whole thing.”

“Yeah, I mean…”

“Her fingers were her livelihood, and the fact that someone had enough malice in them to do that to her before killing her…like, that had to have hurt her more the most out of everything that was done to her.”

“So I take it you don’t believe it was suicide?”

“You are correct, I don’t believe that. For several reasons.”

“Should we take it back to ‘gram town?”

“Yeah, sure.” You scroll down your phone. “So, this next question comes from packedwithsnowpeas, who says ‘i find it interesting that sofia seemed to gravitate towards composers who were known to suffer from depression (e.g., rachmaninoff and schumann, among others), especially since she seemed to suffer from it herself. don’t know if it was intentional on her part, or if she just preferred their music over other composers. thoughts?’” You set your phone down and let out a big sigh. “Yeah…”

“You’re gonna have to take this one,” Ryan says. “I know very little of what they’re asking, and I don’t wanna mangle things.”

“This Q&A is shaping up to be a real barrel of laughs, ain’t it?” you quip before running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, so…brief classical music history. Rachmaninoff had a breakdown following the premiere of his first symphony, which wasn’t received well…due to a number of factors, not just because the symphony was bad, it isn’t, actually, it’s pretty good. But anyway, his breakdown resulted in writer’s block that plagued him for three years, and he eventually underwent hypnotherapy to snap the fuck out of it. Like, he still dealt with depression on and off through the rest of his life, but that’s the one really big episode that people remember.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Ryan says. You laugh a little. “Like I said…I don’t know anything about this.”

“What kind of a researcher are you?”

“One who didn’t think that researching the composers was necessary.”

“That was foolish of you.”

“Evidently.”

“Anyway, when it comes to Schumann…like, some have theorized that, alongside depression, he may have been schizophrenic or bipolar or something along those lines, for a number of reasons. Which…I could get into, but I feel like that’d be detracting from the initial question.”

“Just Google him,” Ryan says to the camera. “Or hey, maybe Shane’ll do an episode of ‘Ruining History’ about him.”

“I demand to be on the panel if that happens,” you say, punctuating the “demand” with a slap of the table. Ryan laughs at your mild histrionics.

“But yeah, back to the question, um…” Ryan runs a hand over his chin, stroking the faint bit of scruff that’s growing in. “I mean, I can see it both ways, or it being a combination of both? In some of those slower songs, and in the ones in minor keys, she could have definitely seem more of a connection, or just…a way to channel anything negative she was feeling. Or it could have just been because they wrote good shit for the piano…I mean, what I’ve listened to is good.” He points at you. “She made me a playlist of songs to listen to when working on this episode, stuff that Sofia played.”

“My sister compiled it; I just passed it along,” you mumble, shifting down in your chair. “Don’t make me sound like a lovesick teenager in a 2000s rom-com.”

“Oh god, I didn’t even—” Ryan cackles at the realization as you sit up and pretend to hand him something.

“I made you a mix CD!” you say in a higher-pitched voice. “It’s all my favorite John Cage pieces!” Ryan laughs harder.

“God, I don’t even know who that is, but that’s really fuckin’ funny.”

“Nah, but…like, I know you always listen to, like, the soundtrack to ‘Silence of the Lambs’ and stuff like that when working on True Crime, so I thought for this episode at least, maybe listening to what she was known for would help in some way. And I went to my sister for more help in choosing the best things. Like…”

“The prelude?” Ryan offers. “The one by Rachmaninoff. That one was probably my favorite.”

“Yeah, and it’s also…it was the last thing Sofia ever played publicly? And she wasn’t even supposed to, it wasn’t even on the program, she just…busted it out, and…this wasn’t in the episode, but in an obituary-slash-review of her last concert, the person talked about how Rachmaninoff hated it because a lot of people wanted to play it but there would be no feeling behind it. And hearing Sofia play it that night…they said they weren’t surprised to learn later about Sofia’s depression, because the way she played it, she made it sound like a breakdown, in her choice of dynamics, tempo, her body language…actually, can we put a link to that review down below?” You point down to where the description box for the video is going to be.

“Yeah, definitely,” Ryan says. “Actually, I don’t remember if I read that or not.”

“Really? I’ll send it to you.”

“Cool.”

“Along with that mix CD of my favorite John Cage pieces.”

Ryan snorts. “Excellent.”

“I’ll even throw in some ‘Koyaanisqatsi’ in there for you.”

“You do that, whatever that is.”

Ryan picks up his phone.

“Okay, back over to Facebook…Stanley Coleman asks, ‘Hey. Quick question. Anyone know if Darren Aronofsky knew about this case and used it as inspiration for “Black Swan” at all?’” Ryan puts his phone down and sighs. “There were a lot of comments like this. Like, ‘Hey, it’s “Black Swan” but with a different Russian composer!’” He turns to look at you as he speaks. “I mean, you were there when we filmed. Shane and I did end up addressing some of the similarities between this case and ‘Black Swan’.”

“I mean…they’re THERE,” you agree. “Young woman with a great talent for something, an overbearing mother who failed at the same career and strives for that success vicariously through her daughter, a somewhat creepy teacher, a history of mental illness and self-harm and slight paranoia, and she gives what she considers her greatest performance before she meets an untimely end.”

“Yep. And that’s where the similarities end.” Ryan’s looking back at the camera now. “Ultimately, the reason it didn’t make it into the episode is BECAUSE of the comments like this one. Everyone would’ve put the focus on that, as opposed to the real-life tragedy.”

“And even in the similarities, there were differences,” you add. “Sofia had far more independence from her mother than Natalie Portman’s character did. Like, Sofia lived on her own. Sofia’s teacher, while possessing intimidating features, had a reputation for being one of the kindest instructors at the time, and, to my knowledge, he never felt up any of his students or assigned them masturbation as homework—seriously, Vincent Cassel, what the fuck. There wasn’t a younger, prettier, more talented rival that was brought in shortly before Sofia’s death. Sofia wasn’t replacing someone who was past their prime. And from the journals Sofia kept, while she did suffer from some paranoid delusions, she didn’t hallucinate anything in the ways that Nina did.”

“Wow. That was surprisingly thorough.”

“Okay, admittedly, I like ‘Black Swan’ and Natalie Portman is fucking brilliant in it. But honestly, the more I talked this out, the more annoyed I got, and now I’m just kind of mad that people would joke about it.”

“Yeah, I can tell. And honestly, I’m a little bit right there with you.” Ryan folds his arms and addresses the camera/audience. “If you watched the video, made the connection, and decided the first thing you needed to say was ‘where’s the part of the case where she makes out with Mila Kunis’ or other similar bullshit…maybe don’t do that.”

“Someone really fucking said that?”

“Someone really fucking said that.”

“Goddamn it…” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Maybe I’m just taking it too personally because I’m closer to this case than anyone else on the Unsolved team, so it’s possible I’m overreacting.”

“No, I get where you’re coming from,” Ryan says. “Like, if people make the connection, that’s fine; it’s a connection I made, myself. But if that becomes the only focus of the case or if people make jokes in bad taste, then we’re gonna have problems.”

“Yeah, no, making the connection is fine. And…okay, even though it wasn’t the episode, you and Shane were very respectful when you had your own discussion about this when filming.”

“Yeah, I think the closest we got to a joke was Shane pointing out that Sofia’s mother does bear something of a resemblance to Barbara Hershey.”

“I mean…technically, that’s a fact, or another observation, so…”

“Well, we’ll move on from this and…take it back over to Instagram?”

“Um…actually, this one is also a YouTube comment,” you say, scrolling to the next question Ryan sent you. “From—JEsus Christ, that’s a long name.

“What?” Ryan’s laughing at your laughing. “What is it?”

“Their name is ‘Tylenol With Codeine’, parentheses, ‘(I’m the good kind of Tylenol, not the disappointing kind)’, end parentheses.”

“…WHAT the FUCK?”

“I dunno, man.”

“I feel like that’s a reference to something.”

“It probably is.”

“So…moving on from that…what’s their question?”

“Um, Tylenol With Codeine…et cetera…says, ‘Personally, I think the mom did it. Couldn’t stand to watch her daughter obtaining the career she failed to have, put an end to it before that could happen, tried to profit off her daughter’s death after the fact. It all makes too much sense to me. #momfromcarrievibes’” You set your phone down and look over at Ryan.

“Yeah, um…Sofia’s mom was a piece of work,” Ryan begins. “I mean…there’s a whole bunch of evidence pointing to her NOT having killed Sofia – including an alibi that’s pretty irrefutable – but…yeah, from what we know of her…like, her treatment of Sofia and her actions following Sofia’s death…not the best mom.”

“Yeah, trying to capitalize off your daughter’s death is disgusting,” you agree. “Like, approaching a record company to make CDs of your dead daughter’s music is…REALLY fucking suspect. Like, if she DIDN’T have that alibi, that would’ve put her at the top of the list, I think.”

“In some defense of her,” Ryan says, “it was put on record that she did seem genuinely shocked upon learning of what happened to Sofia.”

“Shocked but not saddened,” you add. “There’s a difference. Like…yeah, sometimes, you learn about someone’s death, and it’s a surprise, but there wasn’t a shred of grief in her. You may as well have told her about a mild inconvenience, I think that’s how little the news of Sofia’s death impacted her.”

“So, think she killed Sofia?”

“I think she was a shitty mother and a shitty person, regardless of whether or not she killed her daughter. And even if she didn’t kill her, it doesn’t negate all the other terrible shit she did to Sofia. Like…Sofia was contending with some demons prior to her death – demons she still would have been dealing with if she hadn’t died – and her mother was probably responsible for a lot of those.”

“…so…don’t take this the wrong way…but…are you okay?”

You look over at Ryan. He looks…slightly nervous.

“What?” it’s slightly incredulous.

“It’s just…this seems to be really affecting you…”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just…have a problem with shitty moms.”

“…okay…I mean, I do, too, but I just…wanted to check.”

“No, I’m fine.” You offer Ryan a smile. He’s not fully buying. You can tell. “…maybe we cut this little exchange out, though?”

“Yeah, totally.” Ryan clears his throat and picks his phone up. “So, last question, and this one’s from Instagram, from usualjauntystep. ‘you just chose this case because your crew member @alilyforastamp likes dave malloy musicals and he wrote a musical about rachmaninoff, didn’t you? not that i can blame you; her taste in musicals is impeccable. but it seems like too much of a coincidence for that to be an accident. #putherinthesims #itswhatshedeserves’”

The stupid smile on your face starts at the mention of your Instagram handle, and it just gets bigger and stupider from there.

“Are you FUCKING kidding me?!” It’s out of your mouth before Ryan even finishes the question, and his laugh turns into a cackle at the sight of your face.

“I knew you were gonna like that,” he says.

“I just…” You rest your head on the table for a moment. “I’m a little beside myself.” Ryan, still laughing, ruffles a hand through your hair, which you swat away.

“To answer the question, no,” he says as you lift your head and fan your face. “I didn’t know that Dave Malloy wrote a musical about Rachmaninoff. Honestly, the only songs I know from anything he’s written are the two that she’s sung – one at karaoke, the other at the party for the almost-70th—”

You cough a cough that sounds suspiciously like “69th” before resting your chin in one of your hands and looking over at Ryan innocently. When he looks over at you after you cough, you just bat your eyes.

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.” He looks back at the camera. “But anyway, no. I had no idea. It really was just a coincidence.”

“‘Preludes’ is baller, though. …am I using that term correctly? ‘Baller’?”

“…sure.”

“On fleek?”

“Oh my god.”

“Crunk?”

“Please stop.”

“Turnt?”

“God, you’re worse than Shane.”

“…that’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Ryan laughs.

“Anyway…”

“Yeah, was there a question in there, I’ve completely forgotten.”

“Uh…” Ryan looks at his phone again. “Not unless the hashtag about putting you in the Sims is a question of sorts.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you sigh. “I don’t even wanna think about what Shane would so if I was. Like, what outfits I’d have and what he’d make me do and such.”

“Yeah, he IS kind of a sadist in that game.”

You cross your arms and turn your body towards Ryan.

“Um, you’re one to fucking talk. That game brings out the Goldsworth in you.”

“…I dunno what you’re talking about,” Ryan says casually before shooting you a murderous look and dropping his voice in tone and pitch. “But you should probably shut your mouth before you say anything stupid.”

You blink.

“…there’s a meme I could quote, but I’m not going to,” you finally say after a “tense” moment, turning away from him and clasping your hands on top of the table.

“Say it,” Ryan/”Ricky” demands.

“Nope.”

“Tell the audience.”

“I’m actually pretty certain a good portion of the audience already knows what meme it is because they think the same thing every time you pull this Goldsworth shit.”

“It ain’t shit, baby, it’s just me.”

“Jesus Christ, calm the fuck down, Daniel Day-Lewis.”

“Quote the goddamn meme and maybe I will.”

You sigh. “Will a hint suffice?”

“…it might.”

“Okay. Bill Hader.”

Any semblance of Goldsworth gives way to confusion.

“…Stefon?”

“…you know what? Sure. We can go with that.” Ryan laughs.

“So that’s not it, okay.”

“I mean, the Hotdaga is BASICALLY one of the nightmare clubs that Stefon would describe to Seth Meyers, so…”

You assume a Stefon-esque posture as Ryan begins to cackle.

“This place has everything,” you say in your best Stefon impression. “Crab jousts, lesbian corn on the cob, a french fries whose singing voice sounds absolutely nothing like its speaking voice…”

“Oh my god, please stop…” Ryan’s laughter is pained, and true to Bill Hader every goddamn time during a Stefon sketch, you almost corpse, but you press on.

“Tiny murderous hot dogs, A can of soup that’s married to a spaceship, plupples…” You nudge Ryan and whisper, “ask me what a plupple is.”

“What’s a plupple?” It’s less asked and more choked out between giggles.

“It’s that thing where…it’s like a peach but sexier and blue.” You inhale and cover your mouth a la Stefon.

“By the way, no Hotdaga this week,” Ryan says as his laughter dies down. “This is the closest you’ll get to the Hotdaga this week.” You drop your Stefon impression to pump your fists in the air in victory. “I take it you don’t like the Hotdaga.”

“I do not, and you know this,” you confirm.

“How strongly do you not care for the Hotdaga, is my question,” Ryan says.

“Um…gonna slightly tie it back to the episode here,” you begin. “There’s a…somewhat infamous review that Cesar Cui wrote following the premiere of Rachmaninoff’s first symphony. Replace ‘Rachmaninoff’ with ‘Shane Madej’ and any mention of the symphony with ‘the Hotdaga’, and that about sums up how i feel.”

“Okay. That’s…obtuse…”

“The reviews begins with ‘If there were a conservatory in Hell’. That should be enough of a hint for you.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“…so next week’s episode is, uh…something special.”

“Who murked me?” you say, raising your hand. “Spoilers: Shane did, because I spoke ill of the Hotdaga one too many times.”

“I…you’re very close,” Ryan says.

“I AM very close.” You scoot your chair a little bit towards Ryan. “Look, I’m even closer.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a dork. BUT…” He looks over at you. “Thank you for helping with this week’s Postmortem. Definitely wouldn’t have been able to answer some of those music questions on my own or with anyone else.”

“You’re very welcome,” you say, a little taken aback by the sudden sincerity, and the small fond smile on Ryan’s face. “Thank you for having me on the show.”

“You’re very welcome,” Ryan echoes.

You hold his eyes for one more moment before you look away. You don’t want to make it too obvious for the camera that you’re…kinda really fucking smitten right now.

“Still gonna be some people in the comments going ‘oh my god, this episode sucked, that bitch ruined everything’,” you joke weakly.

“People won’t say that,” Ryan says.

“I’m a woman on the internet – yes, they will.”

“Well, what do you have to say to them?”

“Don’t worry, guys, a ghost will probably get me when we start filming the next season of Supernatural.”

“If that happens…”

“I’ll be sure to haunt the fuck out of you and Shane to prove that ghosts are real, don’t worry.”

“Your sacrifice is appreciated…but I hope that doesn’t happen.”

“Hard same.”

With that, Ryan launches into the closing schpiel as you smile amiably at the camera.

“Thanks for watching, and we’ll see you next time,” Ryan signs off.

“…well, you will,” you add. “I’ll be behind the camera again.”

“Just I will see you next time.”

“No, Shane’ll be with you.”

“Shane and I will see you next time.”

“There we go.”

A moment or so of quiet, and the light on the camera blinks off.

Your head makes an audible _thud_ as it hits the table.

“Oh my Christ…” Your voice is muffled by the table. You feel Ryan lightly patting your back.

“You okay?” He sounds once again amused by your histrionics.

“That went so much more…than I thought.”

“SO much more…what? Better? Worse?”

“Yes?” You lift your head. “Like…DEFINITELY nervous closer to the beginning and now I’m just like…Christ, what all idiotic shit did I say?”

“You were fine,” Ryan assures you. “Shane and I make idiots of ourselves every week like this.”

“I thought you were cool,” TJ says as he walks over. “Didn’t know you knew that much about music and shit.”

“Most of it comes from my sister, but, I mean, I grew up with it,” you say, standing and stretching before reaching back for your mic pack to unwire yourself.

“Like I said, invaluable knowledge for this case,” Ryan says, doing the same as you (although his stretch causes his shirt to rise a little and the flex of his arms does…things…and you mentally shake your head to snap out of it). “And once we get this into the system, we can have your sister watch it to make sure she’s okay with everything you said about her.”

“Thank you again for offering to do that,” you say, unclipping your mic from your shirt and tugging the cord down from the bottom of your shirt. “Don’t want to embarrass her.”

“No problem,” Ryan says as you hand your mic pack to TJ. “…also…we’ll definitely cut that one bit out. After the mom question.”

…you’d almost forgotten about that.

“Yeah…thank you.”

“…you know if there’s ever anything bad going on, you can tell me or…anyone.”

“No. Nothing bad.” You smile. It’s not a big smile. But it’s a smile. “It’s just…one of those things that gets under my skin.”

You’re not sure how much of that Ryan buys, but he doesn’t push the matter, instead choosing to take his phone out of his pocket and click over to Messages.

“Did Shane ask you if I fucked it up?” you ask jokingly. Ryan laughs, but it dies (though the fond smile on his face doesn’t).

“Nah, just Helen asking when she thinks I’ll be home,” he says. “Which usually means she wants to surprise me with dinner and doesn’t want to fuck up the timing with me being early or late.”

“That’s sweet,” you say. “I’ve got some leftover dumplings waiting for me in my fridge, so…”

“Ooh…that also sounds delightful,” Ryan says.

“Nah…food with your lady…enjoy that.” You smile again, even if it’s just for show.

“Okay…but next week, we may have to do dumplings for lunch one day. You’ve put it in my head, and now it won’t leave.”

“Sounds good to me.”

***

The two of you end up doing dumplings for lunch the day the Postmortem goes up.

Predictably, Shane pretends to be EXTRA salty at you about all the Hotdaga hate. But he can’t be too mad because he’s still thoroughly impressed with your knowledge of the case, and of classical music in general.

Also predictably, you get hate comments. Some that are joking because you’d said you’d get them, and some of them utterly sincere, quite profane, and of varying levels of creativity and spelling skills.

More than anything, though, there’s a lot of…like?...for you? Some love, yes, but mostly like. There’s some more adoration for your sister and her piano skills (which you screenshot and pass on to her, much to her annoyance and embarrassment).

(And you completely ignore every comment and tumblr post that calls you out for the Bill Hader meme you HAD been referencing.) (Namely, “well, mark me down as scared AND horny”.) (“SHE’S SO FUCKIGN THIRSTY FOR GOLDSWORTH JSUS CHRIST”)

(You’re not.) (Not really.)

(Your ankle shakes.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


End file.
